


Line in the Sand

by Ailanthium



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailanthium/pseuds/Ailanthium
Summary: As the Maganac Corps faces off against an overwhelming army of Virgos, two of their finest reflect on what they're fighting for.
Kudos: 4





	Line in the Sand

“They’re cresting over the horizon.”

“How many of ‘em, you think?”

“Just a sec…”

Hairaz adjusted his binoculars. The stark black machines descended down the sand dunes, more than a dozen at first count. His vision was obscured by the brewing sandstorm, so he switched to infrared vision. It helped him pick out the Virgos, their mechanical chests pulsing with a faint red glow. There were no pilots inside those lifeless dolls.

“Eighteen. No more, no less.”

Static echoed through the radio as their comrades processed that information. Anxious whispers trickled in from the chatter, quickly silenced by Rasid Kurama’s commanding baritone voice. “Do not falter now. Slow their movements however you can and force them to come to us. Every second we buy is another for the citizens to escape.”

“They’re not making this easy on us,” Ibrahim grumbled under his breath. His Maganac kneeled down beside Hairaz, offering its giant metal hand to him. “Better haul ass if you want to be in the cockpit by the time those mobile dolls arrive.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Hairaz replied with a laugh which quickly turned into a cough as sand tickled his lungs. “Rather climb inside the old fashion way than risk getting crushed by your clumsy hands.”

Hairaz waded across the sand dune and climbed the foot of his own Maganac, the machine’s armor blistering hot even through thick layers of camouflage paint and his own hide gloves. He adjusted his goggles. A short hop allowed him to grapple onto the mobile suit’s skirt armor, the ridges of its metal plating acting as handholds for him to climb onto its chest. The hatch opened with a press of the button. Hairaz lifted himself over the ledge and dropped inside, closing the hatch again before more sand could filter in.

“Would have been easier if you’d just climbed on my hand…” Ibrahim mumbled, his voice coming in from the direct link communication.

Hairaz used his heel to pull his other foot out of its boot. He tipped the empty boot upside down, pouring a handful of sand onto the floor where it tumbled deeper into the machine. Once the grains finally settled into place, he did the same for the other boot. Then he slid his feet back into his shoes and wiggled his toes in satisfaction.

“How’s your ammunition looking?”

“Could be better, could be worse.” Ibrahim triple checked his ammo counts on the screen. “Rifle still has a few clips left, but my vulcans are running dangerously low. Gonna have to pull out the beam saber if things get hairy.”

“What happened to that tomahawk of yours?”

“Lodged itself halfway through a Virgo in our last skirmish. I requested another, but you know how it is these days.”

“Yeah. Supplies aren’t looking great right now.”

“No kidding.” Ibrahim sighed and commanded his machine to stand. “Hope I see that autonomous asshole again so I can snag it back.”

“You mean it just walked away with a tomahawk wedged inside it? I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it or not, it’s true. And it’ll come back to me,” Ibrahim answered confidently. “Always does.”

“What is it, a tomahawk or a boomerang?”

“Little bit of A, little bit of B.”

Ibrahim’s machine reached for the rifle stored on its backpack, scaling the desert crest as Hairaz’s Maganac initiated its booting sequence. The terminals surrounding him lit up. He flicked several switches, hands operating on instinct, systems checks coming up green. His beam rifle was still online, but the backup generator only had enough juice to fill it halfway. Ten shots he’d get out of it. Eleven, if he was lucky.

The Maganac’s visor flashed bright red, mono-eye sweeping across what would soon become a battlefield. The evacuation was still underway behind them. The more time they bought here, the more civilians could escape. Hairaz’s attention drifted toward photos he’d taped to the walls of his machine. In one, his arm was wrapped around his wife’s shoulder, her pregnant belly peeking out from under her shirt. In another, an adolescent Ibrahim carried her on his shoulders. He had always been a doting brother.

Soon he would be a doting uncle, too. 

Hairaz followed Ibrahim up the dune, crushing sand below the feet of his machine. The Maganac braced its beam rifle against his shoulder. Its muzzle lay against the edge of his shield, stabilizing his aim. Ibrahim took a prone position in the sand, peeking his rifle over the crest while keeping the Maganac’s body hidden. The clip clicked into position as the Virgos raced across the desert.

“And here they come…”

“This is what we’ve been training for, boys!” Rasid’s voice boomed through the radio. “Make every shot count. Only fire on my command, you hear?”

For a moment, the only thing the soldiers could hear was the sound of their own breaths.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1…  **_FIRE_ ** _! _ ”

A parade of gunfire trumpeted across the battlefield. The defensors on the Virgos’ shoulders activated all at once, forming a wall of particle barriers that absorbed the impact of their shots. The ground itself shifted and rumbled underfoot as the ballistic volley came to an abrupt end. The Virgos marched steadily forward, entirely unfazed by the attack.

“There’s too damn many of them,” Ibrahim whispered, grinding his teeth together. 

Hairaz began charging his second shot, the end of his beam rifle glowing brighter and brighter. Ibrahim soon followed suit, the shell from his first fire falling hot onto the ground. It dipped into the sand, sand melting with its residual heat. A thin sheet of glass soon encased it.

“Line up your second volleys!” Rasid commanded. His voice held steady even in the face of overwhelming odds, a rock-solid foundation for the rest of the team. Rasid Kurama’s confidence was not self-aggrandizing like Treize Khushrenada’s, but humble and faithful. It was through his companions that he achieved strength. “Focus your attacks on the units at the forefront. Their shields will run out of charge, and when they do we will strike hardest!”

_ Hope that happens sooner rather than later _ , Hairaz thought, placing his machine’s free hand on the shoulder of Ibrahim’s Maganac.

“See those two Virgos veering to the right?”

“My right or your right?”

“We’re both facing the same direction,” Hairaz reminded him. “ _ Our _ right.”

“Yeah, I see ‘em.” Ibrahim shrugged. “What about it?”

“See where they’re headed?”

“Right for us, aren’t they?” Ibrahim closed in on one of the mobile dolls with his scope. Sure enough, the two machines had split from the group, headed for the ridge overlooking the field—right where Hairaz and Ibrahim had hunkered down.  _ Is that my tomahawk lodged in that one’s shoulder? _

“Think we should retreat and find a better vantage point.”

“You and I both know there’s not going to  _ be _ a better vantage point. We run away from this now and we’ll only cause trouble for the main force.” Hairaz wiped the sweat from his palm onto his loose cotton shirt. “We can’t just let them flank Rasid and the others.”

“So what are you suggesting, we make a stand here? These aren’t good odds for us. Hell, even just one of ‘em would be enough to make me sweat.”

“We still have the high ground, and so long as we waste their shields on long-ranged attacks, they won’t be able to defend against us at close range.”

“Assuming we live long enough to close that gap…”

“You’re the only person who could rain on another man’s parade in the middle of a desert,” Hairaz grumbled. Rasid’s voice echoed through their comms, commanding another volley, and the two took their shots against the incoming Virgos. Their energy barriers absorbed their attacks once more, metal shells falling to the wayside and beams scattering into the wind.

This time the Virgos fired back. Their frontline stood their ground, bracing to fire their heavy beam cannons. Suddenly the air lit up with a blinding pink-and-purple energy. The Maganacs held their lines against the beam barrage, but not without injury. They managed to avoid any fatalities—at least for now—but the sound of exploding beam rifles and metal limbs clattering onto the sand echoed across the battlefield. 

“If you’ve been hit, reposition yourself behind the rest of us. Use whatever weapons you can get your hands on!” Rasid’s Maganac shuddered as it bore the brunt of a beam attack, its diffusing cloak half-melted from the heat. “Everyone else…  **_FIRE AT WILL_ ** _!” _

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hairaz piped up as he blasted away at the closest Virgo. No matter where he fired, the mobile doll’s shields reacted instantaneously. It was as if it was reading his mind—but he knew better. The more they fought, the more accurate their predictions would be. The calculations the mobile dolls could do in a fraction of a second were far beyond what Hairaz could do given the better part of an afternoon.

“Ibrahim, how many shots you got left?”

_ Click. Click. Click. _

More than half a dozen shells lay empty in the sand near Ibrahim’s Maganac. The Virgo’s shields held strong. “That was uh, that was all I’ve got. Sorry.”

“Nearly running on empty myself. Starting to think you might have a point about that tactical retreat…” Hairaz glanced at the battery on his beam rifle. Three shots left, maybe four. It wasn’t looking good.

“Too late now,” Ibrahim grumbled, ducking to avoid a beam. The end of his rifle failed to avoid the blast. The Maganac focused its mono-eye on the red hot metal that curled outward and dripped onto its hands with a sizzle. “Hah, that’s… yeah, glad that’s not me.”

“You wouldn’t even know if it was,” Hairaz quipped, his machine leaning against the ridge. Now that they’d attracted the Virgos’ attention, all they could do was wait for them to crest. The seconds dragged on and on and on. “Are these things slow as hell or what?”

“They’re like zombies from one of those old-fashioned films,” Ibrahim answered, finding the time to light up a cigarette. The smoke filled his cockpit. “You know, before they started making ‘em run. There’s something about that slow, deathless march forward that’s just… I don’t know. Nothing can kill ‘em, so the best chance at survival is to outrun ‘em.”

“I’m tired of running,” Hairaz declared, shedding his outer jacket and discarding it onto the floor. His shirt was drenched with sweat. “How about we show these mechanical bastards what humans are capable of, huh?”

“Your spirit is infectious.”

Ibrahim dropped his rifle onto the sand, pulling a beam saber from his backpack. The Maganac held the weapon tight.

“I hear them coming up the crest,” Hairaz said. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The Maganacs’ thrusters flared to life, propelling them straight toward the unsuspecting Virgos. The mobile dolls ran their calculations in microseconds, their own thrusters forcing them backwards. Ibrahim’s beam saber collided with the left Virgo’s shield, showering them with light as the blade tore through one of its defensors. The ensuing explosion gave the Maganac the chance to disengage, dashing left as its vulcans fired into the Virgo.

Hairaz chased the other Virgo down, firing a couple beam shots in its direction as his other hand reached for his tomahawk. The moment he saw an opening, he pushed his thrusters to full throttle and charged forwards. He swung his tomahawk down on it, but couldn’t control his momentum, and the Virgo shifted to the side to avoid the strike. Its beam cannon was fully charged. Hairaz cut his thrusters short, pulling back with every ounce of his strength. The Maganac’s exhaust vents billowed heat in a desperate attempt to reverse course, sand escaping from the crevices of the machine. The beam filled his vision as it raced across his cameras, coming within mere inches of his cockpit. The Maganac’s arm—and tomahawk with it—were not so lucky.

“You still alive in there?!”

“Singed, but breathing.” Hairaz paused to catch his breath, but the mobile doll required no such respite. The Virgo rammed into the Maganac with its shoulder, the weight of the machine forcing the Maganac’s chest to collapse in on itself. Its panoramic screens cracked under the pressure as the mobile suit toppled backwards. The impact tested Hairaz’s seatbelts, an airbag inflating behind his head to keep his neck from breaking. He grit his teeth as pain racked his body. “Okay maybe—” He sucked in air through his teeth, but his lungs refused to cooperate. “Maybe not breathing.”

“Just hold on a little longer, dammit!”

Ibrahim’s Maganac ran out of vulcan ammo just as the Virgo’s shield dissipated. The mobile doll charged its cannon once more as Ibrahim prepared to strike it with his beam saber. He knew he wouldn’t get another chance at this, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting toward Hairaz, now at the mercy of the other Virgo. Ibrahim remembered how brightly his sister smiled when she told him she was expecting. He couldn’t take her husband away from her, not now. He would have to trust Hairaz to protect her in his stead.

“Sentimentality will be the death of me,” Ibrahim muttered, tossing the beam saber to Hairaz. “Always liked my tomahawk better anyways.”

Hairaz grasped the hilt of the beam saber from the air, extending its blade to pierce the Virgo’s chest. The mobile doll merely shifted its attention to the blade as he yanked it upwards, splitting its head in half. The machine short circuited, collapsing onto a heap of scrap metal beside his Maganac.

“We did it,” Hairaz gasped incredulously. “We did it!”

This was no time to celebrate, he soon realized. Ibrahim reached out for the tomahawk still buried in the surviving Virgo’s shoulder. There was no way he could grab it before the mobile doll’s beam cannon fully charged, yet the Maganac’s fingers stretched out in anticipation. Hairaz opened his mouth to open his brother by law. The words died in his throat.

A meteor’s tail raced across their screens.

Hairaz slammed his fist against his damaged monitor, thinking it busted. It blinked out, leaving him in darkness. He kicked the door of his cockpit once, twice, and thrice before it swung open, torn from its hinges. The pilot emerged to find himself face to face with the Sandrock, its heat shotels carving through the remaining Virgo like a hot knife through butter. The beam died inside the mobile doll’s cannon.

The Gundam turned to face him. It graced him with a subtle but reassuring nod before it turned back to the battlefield, thrusters flaring to life as it dashed towards its next opponent. What Hairaz and Ibrahim had struggled so hard against had been reduced to wreckage in mere moments. And by a kid, no less.

Ibrahim’s shoulders collapsed. His Maganac kneeled down to retrieve the tomahawk lodged inside the Virgo’s shoulder. “Told you I always get it back.”

Heavy, shuddering breaths greeted him through the radio as Hairaz settled back into his cockpit. Ibrahim reached for the half-lit cigarette on the floor of his cockpit, flicking the sand off it.

“Doing alright there, brother?”

“Yeah, I just.” Hairaz took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you… crying?” Ibrahim hooked the tomahawk into its rightful place on his backpack. “Listen, you’re alive. We’re both alive, and I need a damn smoke.”

“I know.” Hairaz stared back up at the photo of his expecting wife, wiping his tears away with the back of his gloves. “It’s just that… Quatre’s still just a kid, you know? Putting on a brave face for the world.”

“He’s better at it than most adults I know,” Ibrahim replied. “Yourself included.”

“Shouldn’t be that way.”

“No… no, I suppose not.”

“Children shouldn’t fight in their parents’ wars,” Hairaz said bitterly. “That’s not the kind of world I want for my daughter. That’s not the kind of world I want for anyone.”

“You know, I think those kids might be thinking the same damn thing.” Ibrahim raised his lighter to the cigarette until the flames took. “Their childhoods were stolen from them, after all. The Maganac Corp, we’re just as guilty of that as anyone else. Even now we’re relying on them to save our sorry behinds.”

“I hate how relieved I am,” Hairaz confessed, his breaths settling between his words. “How relieved I am to be alive. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ibrahim paused, a smile tugging against his reluctant face. “A niece, huh? Never told me you two were expecting a girl.”


End file.
